So, I know I said I was back, and I meant it. I had to take a short hiatus because of a very traumatic death in the family. I know, you're sorry for my loss and I appreciate it. I really do.
Anyway... just prior to that... THIS happened...
For Easter this year, I decided that instead of buying a shit ton of candy that will sit around, after I had pilfered all the good shit out of it.. where I ration it out to my kids like one piece a day until finally they forget about it and I throw it out at the next candy-worthy holiday... that I would instead throw my 'Jesus' money into something that will last. Something that the whole family can enjoy. You know, like together and shit. My brilliant plan actually began back in January, I just didn't know it yet. Let's back track...
Mommy's little princess turned 8 in January. When we asked how she wanted to celebrate, she brought any parents worse nightmare into fruition with the words "sleep over". Seriously, when I heard those words, I screamed. Out loud. Like some asshole in a ghost mask was chasing me, and I was too fucking dumb to run out the door and instead ran up the goddamn stairs. It was THAT terrifying to me!
But still, it's what she wanted, so it's what she got. Being that I'm not super close with a lot of the parents in the school district yet, I honestly didn't expect too many parents being okay with leaving their kid alone with a complete stranger overnight in a house they've never set foot in. Boy, was I wrong! Apparetnly, in 2013 "sleep over" = free babysitter for the night! Seriously. I limited the number of kids Ally could invite and gave the option for parents to pick their kids up at 10p if they weren't comfortable letting them stay all night. I seriously figured that MAYBE 4-6 little screaming girls would be in my care all night, out of the 10 I let my daughter invite. WRONG! I seriously dont understand how, but of the 10 we invited, fucking 12 stayed all night. TWELVE! I know, the math doesn't add up. I can't fucking figure it out either. All I know is that I'm still traumatized.
Including my daughter, I had 13 7-9 year old screaming little girls who wouldn't shut the fuck up or go to sleep PLUS a 3 year old. I'm going to spare you the details of how these little girls destroyed everything in sight, including my eardrums, or how their parents practically shit on the door step and then ran the fuck off for their free night off. I'll instead tell you about dropping it like it's hot and getting my ass handed to me.
So... know that dance game for PS3 and XBOX Kinect? Just Dance? it's actually pretty sweet and we turned it on thinking the girls would love it. This party was thrown in my ex's finished basement, and I've honestly never played it before. Being a fan of dance in general - I threw the fuck down! There was a line forming very quickly of little girls who wanted to "battle Allys Mom" .. Ya, I'm a bad ass. 2 problems with this scenario... 1) I'm fucking old and out of shape. I never let them see, but I was seriously dry-heaving in between One Direction and that Call Me Maybe song. 2) These little girls got moves like Jagger! And by moves, I mean a couple of them could make Showgirls blush. Ever seen an 8yr old girl bend over, wiggle and then smack her own ass? Neither had I. I should have filmed it. It could have been their audition tape for Sixteen and Pregnant.
Anyway... So I legit enjoyed playing this game. And, based on my limping for a few weeks post slumber party.. I figured that getting a Kinect for our XBox and that game, plus a few for the boys was a win/win. I thought we could have fun together as a family, and I could maybe raise my ass back to where it was a few years ago.
It started off well. Easter bunny delivered the new gagget and by the next night we had it hooked up and ready to go. It went relatively well, despite it not recognizing my 3yr old as a player and the "Oh my fucking god, if you guys dont figure this shit out I'm throwing the goddamn thing in the trash" drama... everybody was having fun. Kind of.
The Just Dance game really is a lot of fun for an ex-dancer like myself. It's kind of a challenge, and is legit a work-out for a woman who burns the most calories a day when cussing out the McDonalds employee who fucked her order up. I enjoyed playing with the kids so much that one day, after work I decided to turn it on and continue my plot to get my ass back by myself.
Picture this:
All the furniture pushed to the side. Me, waving frantically at the Kinect, trying desperately to get it to recognize me as a player. Me, waving frantically in like 3 fucking sports bras (The girls need strapped the fuck down for what's about to happen) while rocking a pair of cut-off yoga pants and barefoot in my living room. Finally, I get all those fucking ducks in a row and warm up with some Call Me Maybe. *I love that song. I have no shame* After 2 songs, I need my inhaler and decide that I should do just ONE more, but really need to go balls out this time. So, I throw on Rhianna's 'Umbrella' This, is not good for me. This song requires far more pelvic thrusting than I'm recently accustomed to. Yes, that's me admitting that I"m not having NEARLY enough sex these days. Anyway.. I finish the applause worthy performance, take my bow and after dry-heaving for a moment, decide to call it a day and turn the XBOX off in lue of some good couch sitting with a bag of Funyuns. Don't fucking judge me!!
I bend over to turn the XBOX off with the touch of my finger. (I love that touch sensitive shit. It makes me feel like I'm performing magic. Sometimes, I turn it off and on multiple times while pretending to recite a latin incantation. I'm fucking Harry Potter and you can't tell me otherwise)
As I stand from the turning off, I ram my ass directly into the corner of a wall. Like the sharp as fuck, how the fuck did that get there? Corner. It fucking hurt. A little back story- without getting into it, my tailbone has suffered much trauma in it's day. It's been broken multiple times, and in one spot the skin is like paper thin. Of fucking course, that's EXACTLY where I decided to 'back dat ass up' into the fucking wall.
It hurt like hell. Like I bent over and held my breath for a minute. Eventually, I was able to blow it out and stood. I had assumed that I had just bruised my fucking ass and would be sitting more carefully for a day or two. I was wrong!
A few steps later and I felt something dripping down my leg. Knowing that I wasn't due for Eve to make her monthly visit, I became alarmed and hobbled my broken ass into the bathroom to inspect the damage. Sure as shit, I was bleeding. From my ass. FROM MY FUCKING ASS!
Okay, so not ass in the literal sense. My chocolate star-fish was intact and just fine. My tailbone, however was not. Do you KNOW how hard it is to inspect your own ass for damage assessment purposes? I now do. I grab a clean, cold towel and get the bleeding stopped for a bit. The problem? I don't own a full-length mirror. This, meant that with a cold, wet bloodied towel in one hand... I was trying to boost my NAKED ass up on top of my bathroom counter with the other. Literally. I some how managed to get up there but still couldn't really see well enough to know how bad the cut was. Also, it fucking hurt like a bitch and there was a lot of blood. I had some goddamn nerve pain shooting down my leg. I'm convinced that I'm either going to bleed to death with my naked ass in my sink, or be paralyzed from the waste down and be denied disability because "I shouldn't have provoked the fucking wall".
Honestly, I really couldn't tell how bad the cut was and even as a nurse myself I needed some help. Knowing that my boyfriend was to be on his way to see me soon, I sent the following message:
"So, um... I know you're on your way but I kind of need you to hurry. I um.. kind of.. um... broke my ass. Seriously. I can't tell if it's just a bad scratch or if I need stitches. I need you to look at my ass. Please. And! I swear to fucking christ if you laugh at me, I'll never fuck you again. Like ever. That's going to get pretty sad. I wouldn't laugh if I was you. Please, hurry."
He did his best to contain himself although I KNOW laughter was had at my expense. Lucky for his man-parts it was not in my presence. When he finally arrived at my place, I was sitting on ice. Literally.
Long story short, after surveying the situation, it was decided that I in fact, did not need stitches. Thank Fucking GOD! I had told him that I had already made up my mind that even if I did.. no way in hell was I going to ER for this shit. No fucking way would they ever believe me on how this had happened and I was not trying to be the laughing stock of the emergency room as the girl with the bleeding ass.
Fast forward to several days later... My ass is healing (and itching like a mother fucker) and the bandage that the world's best boyfriend had placed is ready to be changed. Discussing this need with him, we got to talking. He states...
"You know, when you first told me about it, I thought you meant your actual butthole was bleeding. I came there prepared for anything."
Me: "awe, no.. I honestly don't know if I would have asked you to look at my bleeding asshole, unless it was at your hand. And for that I'd have to have been incredibly drunk and how dare you take advantage of me like that!"
Him: "Hey, I'd have to be really drunk too, but that doesn't negate the fact that I came prepared to look at your chocolate starfish."
Me: "Awe, you really do love me, don't you?"
